President Donald Trump has signed a sweeping new executive
President Donald Trump has signed a sweeping new executive order aimed at tackling homelessness by empowering local governments to dismantle street encampments and redirect individuals into treatment and rehabilitation centers. The directive, which has already triggered sharp reactions from both supporters and critics, is being described by the White House as a “common-sense” move to restore order and dignity to American cities. But opponents argue it represents a dangerous rollback of civil liberties and will only worsen the crisis it purports to address.

The order, signed Thursday, grants Attorney General Pam Bondi the authority to override previous legal protections that have limited cities’ ability to forcibly relocate homeless populations. Specifically, it targets the reversal of federal and state court decisions and consent decrees that have made it harder for local governments to move people from public spaces into institutional care. Bondi is also instructed to coordinate with Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy, Housing and Urban Development Secretary Scott Turner, and Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy to accelerate funding for jurisdictions that crack down on open drug use, illegal squatting, and loitering.
Speaking from the South Lawn on Friday, Trump defended the order as a necessary step toward restoring public safety and international dignity.
“Right outside, there were some tents, and they’re getting rid of them right now,” he said. “You can’t do that — especially in Washington, DC. I talk to the mayor about it all the time. I said you gotta get rid of the tents.”
The president added that such encampments send the wrong message to visiting foreign leaders: “We can’t have it — when leaders come to see me to make a trade deal for billions and billions and even trillions of dollars, and they come in and there’s tents outside of the White House. We can’t have that. It doesn’t sound nice.”
White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt echoed these sentiments, stating, “By removing vagrant criminals from our streets and redirecting resources toward substance abuse programs, the Trump Administration will ensure that Americans feel safe in their own communities and that individuals suffering from addiction or mental health struggles are able to get the help they need.”
However, not everyone agrees with the administration’s approach.

Homeless advocacy organizations were quick to denounce the executive order. Donald Whitehead, executive director of the National Coalition for the Homeless, said in a statement that the move ignores years of research on the effectiveness of housing-first strategies.
“These executive orders ignore decades of evidence-based housing and support services in practice,” Whitehead said. “They represent a punitive approach that has consistently failed to resolve homelessness and instead exacerbates the challenges faced by vulnerable individuals.”
The National Homelessness Law Center (NHLC) went further, calling the order “dangerous and unconstitutional.”
“This order deprives people of their basic rights and makes it harder to solve homelessness,” the NHLC said in a statement released Thursday. “It increases policing and institutionalization, while pushing more people into tents, cars, and streets.”
The timing of Trump’s order aligns with a recent Supreme Court decision that upheld the right of an Oregon city to fine homeless individuals for sleeping outside in public spaces. The court ruled that such penalties do not violate the Constitution’s Eighth Amendment prohibition against cruel and unusual punishment. That ruling has emboldened several cities to consider stricter enforcement policies against encampments.
While some city officials have welcomed the administration’s new direction, others worry that it will shift resources away from housing solutions and into law enforcement and detention.
“We understand the need for public order,” said a city council member from Los Angeles who asked not to be named. “But criminalizing homelessness is not a long-term solution. The focus should be on affordable housing and wraparound services, not just sweeping people off the streets.”
Meanwhile, the Trump administration has defended its strategy as compassionate and practical.
“This is about getting people the help they need,” said HHS Secretary Robert F. Kennedy. “We’re not talking about jailing people—we’re talking about offering them structured care, support, and treatment.”
Trump’s order also includes provisions to track registered sex offenders within homeless populations and ensure they are not residing near schools or playgrounds. According to the administration, this aspect of the policy is aimed at improving public safety and protecting vulnerable communities.
Public reaction to the announcement has been sharply divided.
On conservative platforms, the move has been celebrated as long overdue. “This is what leadership looks like,” read one comment on a pro-Trump forum. “Time to clean up our cities and stop enabling this madness.”
On the other hand, liberal commentators and civil rights advocates argue that the order will disproportionately affect people of color and those with untreated mental illnesses.
“What we’re seeing is a war on the poor dressed up as policy,” said a spokesperson for the American Civil Liberties Union. “It’s not compassionate to round people up and institutionalize them. It’s authoritarian.”
The backdrop to this policy debate is a record-setting rise in homelessness in the United States. According to HUD data, over 770,000 Americans experienced homelessness in 2024—a staggering 18% increase from the previous year. Experts attribute the spike to a combination of factors, including a nationwide housing shortage, natural disasters, and an influx of migrants seeking shelter.
Trump made the homelessness crisis a cornerstone of his 2024 campaign. At a rally in North Carolina last September, he declared, “The homeless encampments will be gone. They’re going to be gone.”
He added, “Some of these encampments, what they’ve done to our cities—you have to see it. And we’ve got to take care of the people.”
That last comment—”we’ve got to take care of the people”—illustrates the rhetorical balancing act the Trump administration is trying to strike: framing the policy as both tough on public disorder and compassionate toward those in crisis.
Critics, however, remain skeptical.
“If you really wanted to help people, you’d start by investing in housing, mental health clinics, and job programs,” said a former HUD policy analyst. “But that’s not what this is about. This is about optics and control.”
As cities across the country consider how to respond to Trump’s directive, the impact of the executive order remains to be seen. What’s certain is that it has reignited a fierce national debate about how best to address homelessness—one that pits public safety and aesthetics against human dignity and civil rights.
Whether this policy will make a meaningful dent in the homelessness crisis or simply shuffle the problem out of sight is a question that will unfold in the months to come.
A billionaire father returned home early and found his paralyzed twins on the floor—laughing. What their caregiver did next challenged everything he believed
A billionaire father had built a strict medical routine to protect his paralyzed twins—until the day he came home early and found them lying on the floor with their caregiver, unaware that a simple movement would challenge everything he had ever been told.
Graham Holloway hadn’t planned to return until sunset. For nearly two years, his life had followed the same cold, unchanging pattern. He left home before his sons were fully awake, spent long hours in a glass tower in downtown Raleigh, and returned at night to a strangely quiet mansion. His staff ensured everything was perfect. His schedule was set down to the minute. Every room looked flawless.
And yet, nothing in that house felt alive.
On Thursday, a meeting with investors ended earlier than expected. A contract delay pushed discussions to the following week. Graham could have stayed in the city, reviewing numbers, but a deeper exhaustion than usual made him stop pretending. He dismissed his driver at the entrance of his estate in Wake Forest, North Carolina, and chose to walk in alone through a side door.
It reminded him of how his late wife used to surprise him—hearing the door open, laughing somewhere in the hallway, telling him dinner would be ready soon. Sometimes their twins would rush to him before he could even set down his briefcase.

Those memories had become dangerous.
Entering the quiet house, Graham loosened his tie, expecting the usual silence.
But then he heard something so unexpected that he froze.
Children laughing.
Not from a TV. Not from a tablet. Real laughter—clear, light, alive.
For a moment, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.
Then he followed the sound.
What he saw took his breath away.
The laughter led him down the east hallway to the rehabilitation room he had set up after the accident. He pushed the door open so abruptly his shoulder hit the frame.
Both wheelchairs were empty.
His heart began pounding painfully.
On the padded floor lay his sons, Declan and Wesley Mercer, eight years old. Wesley still had a faint mark above his eyebrow—a reminder of the fall that had changed everything.
They were on their backs, knees bent, bare feet pressing against foam pads and small wooden blocks.
Standing beside them was Naomi Bell, the caregiver he had hired three months earlier.
She wasn’t panicked or rushed.
She was calm.
One hand supported Declan’s hips, while the other rested gently on Wesley’s knee. Her movements were slow, steady—almost like music.
In a soft voice, she hummed a quiet tune about rivers, light, and progress inch by inch.
The boys were not afraid.
They were smiling.

Graham couldn’t move.
For two years, every specialist had told him the same thing: no improvement, no recovery, no hope beyond maintenance. He had built his entire world around that certainty—structured routines, controlled environments, zero risks.
And now… his sons were on the floor.
“Stop.” His voice came out sharper than he intended.
Naomi looked up, calm but alert. “Mr. Holloway, I can explain—”
“They’re not supposed to be out of their chairs,” he cut in, stepping closer, his pulse racing. “What are you doing?”
Declan turned his head first. “Dad?”
Wesley grinned. “We’re playing.”
Playing.

The word hit him harder than anything else.
Naomi slowly removed her hands, making sure the boys were stable before standing. “They’re safe,” she said gently. “I would never put them in danger.”
Graham’s eyes scanned their bodies, expecting panic, pain—anything. But there was none. Just flushed cheeks… and that laughter still lingering in the air.
“They moved,” Naomi continued carefully. “Not much—but enough.”
“That’s not possible,” Graham said immediately. “We’ve had the best doctors—”
“And they taught you to protect them,” she said softly. “But not to test them.”
Silence filled the room.
Naomi crouched again, this time slower, more deliberate. “Wesley, can you show your dad what you just did?”
Wesley hesitated, then nodded. With visible effort, he pressed his heel into the foam and shifted—just slightly—but enough.
Graham’s breath caught.
It was small. Almost nothing.
But it wasn’t nothing.
Declan followed, a tiny movement of his leg, his face tightening with concentration—then breaking into a proud smile.
“See?” he whispered.
Something inside Graham cracked.
All this time… had he been holding them back?
Naomi stood again. “They don’t need less care,” she said. “They need a different kind.”
Graham looked at his sons—really looked at them—not as fragile patients, but as children.
Children who were trying.
For the first time in years, he didn’t know what the right answer was.